A Little Twig from Ladonia (My Family Tree)

By Mary Katherine James Dowell -- 1987
Provided by Glenn Ann Dowell Hunt

The James' -- (3 of 4)

James, my cousin, said "Grandma James, would you please put those jars back where you found them. That is our whiskey and we hid it just like Uncle Cub does his." I guess she was thankful it was water instead of the real thing, for she meekly obeyed.

When Grandma James became unable to care for herself, it was Uncle Cub and Aunt Lena who cared for her. She had the care of a baby. I was married when she died in her own home and her own bed, not a nursing home. About the last time I ever saw her alive she was sitting up in bed and Uncle Cub was sitting on the side of the bed and she was leaning against him... just like a trusting child. She knew he would take care of her. She looked at Glenn, my husband, and said, "Cub, who is that man?"

Uncle Cub said, "Mama, he's just an old cotton picker that lives out in the country." She said, "Cub, is he really a cotton picker?"

As I have said, Cub James was a character and he enjoyed his spirits. When everyone else is age was considered old he was still "young in heart". Just a few years before his death he climbed the water tower at Pecan Gap with a little white dog tucked in the bib of his overalls. They stayed up there all day with the citizens of Pecan Gap watching and expecting him and the dog to fall down. When it got dark, he calmly climbed down and went home... the dog still in the bib of his overalls.

There was never another like him. When I get farther back in my geneology I expect to find that Uncle Cub got part of his vim and vigor from Frank and Jessie ---James, that is.

I can remember when Uncle Cub came home from "over there". We went to Pecan Gap to a family reunion that was given in his honor. He was sitting in a big chair, the center attraction, just like a king. My cousin, Arnold, was taking great pride in shining his shoes and puttees

Uncle Cub had brought each child an iron bank, shaped like a bullet, I still have mine, at least, my grandson has it.

Sometimes I think the war was what made Uncle Cub so restless. He could never really settle down. He saw lots of killing and it made him bitter and resentful. He would never talk about his war experiences but lots of others who were there told about how he would never back up from any attack. He was always up in the front, doing his part as he saw fit.